<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A Lobster Tale by julien (julie)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22948600">A Lobster Tale</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/julien'>julien (julie)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>due South</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Dates, First Kiss, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>1999-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>1999-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:07:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22948600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/julien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser has, quite unexpectedly, taken Ray to the Lake Shore Room for dinner. It takes Ray a while to work out why.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Benton Fraser/Ray Vecchio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Lobster Tale</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><strong>First published:</strong> 7 February 1999 in my zine Pure Maple Syrup 8.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>A Lobster Tale </h1>
<p>♦</p>
<p>The Lake  Shore Room… This fancy restaurant was quite wasted on the Mountie and the cop. Now,  if Ray was wanting to impress a date, he’d bring her here to be awed by the  ambience that reeked of ostentation, the waiters who silently shrieked a  snobbish kind of class, the menu that was like a cordon bleu classic hit  parade. No, on reflection, Ray changed his mind. Maybe he’d bring his Ma here  for her birthday; if he wanted to impress a date, he’d find somewhere with a  little more imagination and a whole lot more trendiness. And that’s how long it  had been since he last dated – his thinking on the topic was completely stale…</p>
<p>But Fraser  brought him here. It wasn’t exactly the best place for two friends to chow down  and discuss their latest murder case, but apparently it was the only restaurant  that Fraser knew of in Chicago… Apparently that damned reporter, that scourge  of honest cops, Mackenzie King, had brought him here while she was trying to  choose whether to chase the story or pursue the Mountie.</p>
<p>And Fraser  almost fit in here, dressed in his formal uniform, scrubbed and polished and  pure. Even the waiters accorded him a measure of respect.</p>
<p>Right now  Fraser was hidden from view, as both men sat there contemplating menus that  folded out almost as large as Ray’s morning paper.</p>
<p>‘Fraser.’</p>
<p>‘Yes, Ray?’  A solicitous tone, and Fraser’s menu lowered far enough to allow their gazes to  meet over the top.</p>
<p>‘What are  we doing here?’</p>
<p>Fraser’s  eyes slid away for a moment, and Ray frowned: the falter in directness, no  matter how slight, was atypical of the Mountie. After a moment he answered, ‘Enjoying  each other’s company, Ray.’</p>
<p>‘Oh. Yeah.’  Ray offered the man a cool smile. ‘You don’t get out much, do you, Fraser?’</p>
<p>‘No, Ray.’ A  moment of thought, and then Fraser leaned forward to confide, ‘I hope that will  begin to change now, Ray.’</p>
<p>‘Huh,’ was  Ray’s deliberately neutral reply. Still getting used to the idea of finding a  best friend in his early thirties – about fifteen or twenty years too late –  Ray wasn’t gonna commit to anything much just yet.</p>
<p>Eventually  their waiter arrived to take their order, managing to make the process seem  like a test that Ray naturally failed. He’d ordered steak Diane, well done, and  apparently that wasn’t really good enough. Well, he wasn’t one for red meat and  blood, and he refused to be ashamed about it. Fraser ordered the lobster, which  the waiter seemed to consider acceptable.</p>
<p>Once the  waiter had stalked off towards the kitchen, the two men were alone. A silence  stretched. ‘God,’ Ray eventually said, ‘I suppose you want small talk now.’</p>
<p>‘I’m not  sure…’ Fraser smiled, perfect acceptance on his face. ‘It’s not a strength of  mine.’</p>
<p>‘So, what’s  the plan? Sit here silent?’</p>
<p>‘That doesn’t  seem to be your style, Ray.’</p>
<p>‘No…’</p>
<p>‘If you’re  not interested in talking about the smaller concerns of life, then why don’t we  discuss the larger questions?’</p>
<p>Ray boggled  a little. ‘And they would be…?’</p>
<p>The two of  them were interrupted – thankfully – by the return of the waiter with a  trolley. Surely their meals couldn’t have been prepared already. If so, Ray’s  steak was rare, and God-help-him he was gonna complain even if Fraser expected  Ray to be on his best behaviour.</p>
<p>But, no –  the waiter lifted a silver dome and with a flourish produced Fraser’s lobster.</p>
<p>Alive.</p>
<p>The lobster  was alive! It hung there in the waiter’s right hand, waving its claws and  tentacle-things at them. The creature looked quite forlorn… Ray wondered if it  was true what he’d heard, that the lobster would be plunged alive into boiling  water, to die and be cooked at the very same time.</p>
<p>Ray knew he’d  blanched. He didn’t say anything, though. Fraser, being Fraser, while home in  the frozen north no doubt caught, skinned, gutted and cooked his own food. Ray,  the city boy, hardly even mentally linked a slab of meat with a living animal,  and he was happy enough to leave the connection a vague one.</p>
<p>Perhaps  Fraser saw his companion’s startled reaction. All he did was nod at the waiter,  an urbane smile indicating his acceptance, as if he were merely checking the  label on a bottle of wine. The lobster was placed back under the dome, and  wheeled away to its fate.</p>
<p>Another  silence stretched. Ray stared at his cutlery, wondering if he was still hungry.  It wasn’t that he was normally so full of empathy for God’s lesser creations. He’d  just been blind-sided, that was all. But this was way worse than Fraser’s mud-eating.</p>
<p>‘Ray,’  Fraser eventually said. ‘I wonder if I might borrow the keys to the Riviera. I  think I’d like to leave my stetson there for safekeeping, after all.’</p>
<p>‘Don’t  trust the cloakroom staff?’ Ray managed, digging for his keys.</p>
<p>Another  smile. Of course Fraser would never state such a thing – he was never critical  of others, except through the judgement of criminals that a cop exercised  daily.</p>
<p>Fraser  headed off, though he stopped to exchange a few words with the <em>maitre d’</em>. And Ray was left sitting  there alone for what seemed like a very long time…</p>
<p>On his  return, Fraser seemed a little subdued. Silence ensued. The larger questions  had gotten lost in the triviality of life. Finally Fraser said, ‘This isn’t  proceeding as well as I’d hoped.’</p>
<p>And  something inside of Ray warmed again. ‘Hey, this ain’t the movies, Benny. Or,  if it is, it’s an arthouse flick.’</p>
<p>The Mountie  looked blank.</p>
<p>‘Everything’s  kind of sordid and confused and wrong, and it’s easier to laugh at people than  feel sorry for them, even though you know it’s yourself up there fumbling  around.’</p>
<p>‘Oh.’ Fraser  seemed surprised, though Ray wasn’t sure what the man had to be surprised  about.</p>
<p>And the  waiter returned with their meals. The plates were set before them and the  waiter retreated with a murmured, ‘<em>Bon  appetit</em>.’</p>
<p>After a moment,  Ray realised that his steak and Fraser’s lobster had transformed into spinach  quiche and salad.</p>
<p>‘Vegetarian  seemed a better choice tonight,’ Fraser said.</p>
<p>Ray  grinned. ‘Yeah, OK.’</p>
<p>And they  both happily tucked in…</p>
<p>♦</p>
<p>‘May I  propose a slight detour?’ Fraser suggested as Ray reversed the Riv out of its  parking space.</p>
<p>‘Sure.’ Ray  headed down through the parking lot for the street, and then idled the Riv,  waiting for directions.</p>
<p>‘I believe  there’s a pier, along which we could walk out over Lake Michigan.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah…’</p>
<p>‘I hear the  view of the city is quite delightful from out there, particularly at night.’</p>
<p>‘OK.’ It  was a reasonably warm night, so Ray wouldn’t freeze his butt off, and frankly  he had nowhere else he wanted to be, nothing else he wanted to do. Indulging  the Mountie wasn’t so bad a pastime.</p>
<p>They were  at the shoreline within a few minutes, and Ray found a park right at the end of  the pier. Once they were out of the car, Fraser walked around to the rear and  indicated the trunk. ‘If you’d be so kind…’</p>
<p>Ray cast  him a suspicious look, just on principle really, and opened it up. There was a  black plastic garbage bag sitting there on a few sheets of damp newspaper.</p>
<p>‘Thank you,’  Fraser said, taking the bag, and then walking a few steps towards the pier  before waiting for Ray to catch up.</p>
<p>‘You know  there’s a city ordinance against littering,’ Ray warned the man in a mock-severe  tone as they fell into step together, boots and shoes <em>thunk</em>-ing quite satisfactorily against the pier’s wooden planking.</p>
<p>‘Yes, would  you like me to quote you the relevant clauses?’</p>
<p>Ray almost  smiled at this inevitable response. ‘No, that’s fine.’</p>
<p>And they  were silent until they reached the end of the pier. Ray leaned his elbows on  the railing, and looked out across the dark waters of Lake Michigan.</p>
<p>‘Um, Ray…’ Fraser  sounded disconcertingly uncertain. ‘I, er, took the liberty –’</p>
<p>Turning,  Ray discovered that Fraser was rustling around in the garbage bag. A moment  later, he produced the contents, waving its claws – it was, of course, the  lobster.</p>
<p>‘You  rescued him!’ Ray declared with a grin.</p>
<p>‘I thought  we could set him or her free.’</p>
<p>‘In <em>this</em> water? We might not be doing him  any favours, Benny.’</p>
<p>‘The Lake  is quite reasonable compared to the River, Ray. I believe he or she – I’m not  entirely sure how to identify a crustacean’s gender – has a good chance of  prospering.’</p>
<p>‘Well, OK.’  Keeping his distance, but feeling inexplicably happy due to this gesture from  his friend, Ray watched as Fraser walked closer to the railing, and held the  lobster out over the water. At the last moment, Ray cried, ‘Wait, wait!’</p>
<p>‘What is  it, Ray?’</p>
<p>‘We have to  name him.’</p>
<p>‘I beg your  pardon?’</p>
<p>‘You heard  me.’</p>
<p>Fraser  stepped back, lobster in hand, but he was looking at Ray with that exaggerated  kind of patience that was the Mountie’s version of impatience. ‘I assure you,  Ray, that it won’t make any difference to the lobster.’</p>
<p>‘I know  that – don’t you think I know that? But we have to name him.’</p>
<p>‘Then what  name do you suggest?’</p>
<p>Ray thought  a moment. ‘Lorenzo. He looks kind of like my uncle, see, with all those  whiskery bits…’</p>
<p>‘Lorenzo,’  Fraser solemnly repeated, looking the lobster right in the eye-stalk-things. ‘<em>Live and be prosperous</em>.’</p>
<p>Imagine the  Mountie getting something wrong! Ray snickered. ‘Don’t you mean <em>Live long and prosper</em>?’</p>
<p>Fraser  glanced at him blankly. ‘I was quoting <em>Romeo  and Juliet</em>. I am fairly sure I have the line correct, although it is almost  two decades since I played the role of Romeo in the Inuvik school play. I  remember that a girl played Balthasar, as we had too few –’</p>
<p>‘Benny! Enough.’  Ray gestured at the creature still waving forlornly in Fraser’s hand. ‘Let’s  send Lorenzo on his way.’</p>
<p>‘Yes.’ And  with no further ceremony, both men stepped up to the railing, and Fraser  dropped the lobster into the water.</p>
<p>A splash,  and then Lorenzo quickly sank from view. Ray and Fraser stood there for a few  moments at the end of the pier, watching a few bubbles in the water, the  lobster at liberty now in the darkness of Lake Michigan.</p>
<p>‘Do you  think he’ll find any lobster-friends out there, Benny? Do you think he might  even find a mate, and make little Lorenzos?’</p>
<p>‘I hope so,’  Fraser murmured, with something slightly more intense than his usual  politeness.</p>
<p>The night  settled quietly around them. Ray eventually turned around, and leaned back  against the railing to look at Chicago. The towers of lights rose almost to the  stars, but they seemed a long way away from out here.</p>
<p>Fraser  turned around, too, and contemplated the city along with Ray. After a while,  Fraser shifted his stance slightly. The back of his hand accidentally brushed  the back of Ray’s, with a whisper of skin against skin. The Mountie never did  anything accidentally… Ray finally understood.</p>
<p>‘Benny.’</p>
<p>‘Yes, Ray?’</p>
<p>‘This is a  date, isn’t it?’</p>
<p>A pause so  brief that it hardly existed. ‘Yes, Ray.’</p>
<p>‘Oh. Well. Why  don’t I drive us home – your place – and you invite me in for coffee?’</p>
<p>‘Thank you,  Ray. I would very much like to drink coffee with you.’</p>
<p>This was  said in such an innocently appreciative manner that Ray couldn’t help but  suspect irony even from the butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-his-mouth Mountie. Ray slid  his gaze across to catch Fraser’s mouth kicking up in that wry smile of his.</p>
<p>Hell, there  was no one else out here. The two men were to all intents and purposes alone. ‘Come  here,’ said Ray.</p>
<p>And they  kissed. Carefully, sweetly, and then a little wildly.</p>
<p>When they  parted again, Ray stared into the man’s beautiful eyes. Breathless, he said, ‘There’s  probably a city ordinance against this, too.’</p>
<p>‘Yes,’  Fraser said, just as breathless.</p>
<p>Ray’s mouth  quirked into a smile. ‘Well, you can arrest me later.’</p>
<p>But the  Mountie didn’t reply: he just leaned in close and quite happily broke the law  once more.</p>
<p>♦</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>